The Rescuer
by livvylane
Summary: When twelve year old Shawn Spencer becomes the target of the serial killer known as The Rescuer, Henry Spencer is desperate to keep the child safe... and his sudden over protectiveness has started to unnerve his son. Can Henry keep Shawn safe or will he become The Rescuer's sixteenth victim? YOUNG!SHAWN!WHUMP
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

* * *

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

The sound echoed through Henry Spencer's bedroom, pulling him from his slumber. As he pried his eyes open, he glanced over his sleeping wife's body to the window where rain was pouring outside. Every few minutes, lightning flashed, lighting up the dark room. He sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall, revealing that it was six in the morning.

Now that he was up, there was no going back to sleep.

He pulled the blankets off of himself and got to his feet, carefully leaving the room as to not disturb his wife's sleep. They'd been fighting a lot lately and she was not a morning person. If he woke her up, he knew that she would start up again about how Henry wasn't spending enough time with his son. That had been the argument the night before. It had only stopped when they heard movement coming from Shawn's room and realized that he was still awake, listening to them.

They had fallen silent and quickly went to bed. They tried to keep their arguments away from their son's ears but the twelve year old was highly observant, a skill that Henry had taught him. He always knew that something was wrong. It was difficult to hide it from him. That didn't mean that they didn't try.

He reached the bathroom and quickly freshened himself up. He would be going into work in about two hours and he had some time to himself before his wife or son woke up.

His mind flashed to the case he was currently working on. Santa Barbara and the surrounding areas had recently had a string of kidnappings. The case was an odd one and it perplexed him. Each time, the parents of the child had received an envelope filled with pictures of their child doing normal activities. A letter was left warning the parents that they had a week to keep their child safe. If he could get to them in that week, they failed. If they could keep their child safe during that week, they won and he wouldn't bother them again. It was signed by The Rescuer.

If they failed and the child fell into the hands of their perp, their body was found three days later, a bullet in between their eyes. There wasn't a pattern as to where to bodies were found. An adorable Latina girl around the age of seven was found in the woods, a ten-year-old African American boy had been found in a lake. A fourteen year old girl's body had been dropped off at her own front lawn in the middle of the night.

It had been going on for four months now and there were fifteen children dead with the only thing tying them together being the threatening note their parents had received and the bullet between their eyes. Some of them sported other injuries (like a nine year old boy who was found in the woods car with a broken leg and bruises covering his chest) and some had been found with the single bullet wound (like the thirteen year old girl who was discovered on the side of the road.

They all had different races, different genders, different ages and different backgrounds. Rich and poor children had been taken, including a young boy whose father was the CEO of a major company and a little homeless girl. A few children had been discovered with injuries that had faded majorly and it had been revealed that their parents had been abusing them before they were taken, leading many people to believe that that was what connected them. Only, there were other children who hadn't been injured by their parents in any way. The boy with a father for a CEO might have not had a very good relationship with his father (as he was always working, it seemed) but the man had never laid a hand on the boy and it was obvious that he loved him very much.

Their perp was also smart. He never left any fingerprints or left behind any clues and the one time someone had spotted him (a younger sister to one of the victims), he'd been wearing a mask. They didn't have a single lead to go on.

Only two children who had been threatened hadn't been taken. The man always threatened them against going to the police but after the week was up, the two sets of parents had practically bolted to the station. It had been rather surprising, actually. The first child to have been successfully protected from their perp had been an Ashley Anderson, an eight year old Caucasian girl whose parents had refused to let her out of their sights during that week, going as far as tell the school she was sick so that she didn't go to school. Both the parents and the little girl had been interviewed thoroughly, trying to see if they had noticed anything strange during that week. They hadn't.

The second had been a fourteen year old girl by the name of Priscilla Richardson. Her parents (or mother, as her father had died a few years back) had responded by sending her to her grandparents' house in Tennessee for the week.

The two girls had been early on, though. Ashley had been child #3 and Priscilla was child #5. The 17th child had been killed just a few days earlier. Ronald Thompson had gone missing the day after his parents had found the letter and his body was found, like all the others, three days later with a gone shot to the head. His body was found in an abandoned car in the middle of the woods. The car had been there for weeks. They were fairly certain that the killer had found it in the woods and decided to leave the body there.

One family had broken the killer's rules and told the police. A day later, both of them had been killed and the child was gone, only to be found three days later.

He'd gotten smarter. That much was obvious. No one had been able to protect their children since Priscilla. He'd gotten them on their way home from school, from their backyards, and even from a grocery store.

He left no trace, no clues that would help them discover his identity.

The public wasn't aware of the case. At least, not as aware as the police department. Obviously, people had caught onto the fact that several children had been killed but no one knew it was linked.

Four months had passed and they were no closer to discovering the identity of the killer than they were when the first child turned up dead.

"Oh, for goodness sakes," Henry said under his breath as he shook his head. He didn't need to think about it this early in the morning. He was already getting a headache and he still had a day of investigating the case to look forward to.

Entering the kitchen, he grabbed a bowl and was about to make some cereal when something caught his eye.

There was an envelope in front of the door, having been stuck through the mail slot. It was too early for the mailman to have come and the envelope was large and bulky.

Swallowing down his fear, as he remembered going through the envelope of the many children from Santa Barbara who had been brutally murdered, he walked towards it. Thunder crashed outside, reminding him of the storm.

He stood above the envelope and could clearly see the words "To the Parents of Shawn Spencer" that had been created through letters that had been cut from magazines.

Unconsciously, his hands moved to the envelope but he pulled them away as he got some sense back in him. He rushed to the bathroom where he kept a box of latex gloves, just in case, and came back. If he was going to be sifting through the photos, he was definitely going to make sure that he didn't destroy any evidence. If there were fingerprints on them (which he doubted there were), he wanted to make sure they could get them.

He gently opened the envelope, making sure to preserve it as best as he could. Carrying it to the kitchen, he quickly sat down and began to sift through its contents.

The letter, with its bright colors due to the magazine letters, stuck out immediately and he pulled it out to confirm his worst fears.

 _To the Parents of Shawn Spencer,_

 _You have one week to keep your child away from me. If I can get to him, you fail and his body will be found three days after he is in my care. If you can keep him safe, you win. Do not tell anyone you have received this letter other than your spouse._

 _The Rescuer._

He could feel bile coming up his throat. The monster was targeting his son. His child was #18.

There were dozens of photos along with the letter; photos of his son. They ranged from the child walking to school with his best friend, Burton Guster, to riding his bike in the street to walking through the grocery store with Madeline. There were even some more disturbing photos like one that had been taken through the windows of Shawn's school, catching the boy as he took a test, and one that had been taken through the windows of Henry's own house, catching the child watching cartoons in the living room.

He swallowed, heart thudding quickly in his chest. Sure, it had been frightening to look at the photos of the dead children and see how the man had followed them around before even threatening the parents but it was another to have his own son being the one who had been followed.

A sudden urge to see his son, to make sure he was okay, overwhelmed him and he gripped several photos in his glove-clad hand as he bolted up the stairs. He practically threw the door to Shawn's room open in an attempt to check on the child and relief ran through his veins at the sight of the twelve year old, sprawled out on the bed and sleeping soundly, unaware that his life was in danger.

Henry was going to keep it that way. His son didn't need to know that anything was wrong. Henry could keep the boy safe for a week. He was a police officer after all. No one was coming near his son.

First things first, Henry needed to make sure that someone was with his son at all times and if that meant bribing the boy with ice cream to let him take him to and from school, so be it.

He would buy his son all the ice cream in the world if that meant that some sicko didn't rip his son from him.

Taking a deep breath, he headed to his room to inform his wife of the new development that had arose.

* * *

 **AN: So this is my new Psych story! It's going to be pretty short (probably only four chapters) and it's set up as a Prequel for another story that I'm going to be writing. I hope you guys like it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

* * *

"Shawn, Shawn, wake up baby. Time for school."

Shawn sleepily opened his eyes, giving a low moan as he covered his face with his blanket, "Too early."

His mother gave a laugh but there was something off about it that instantly put Shawn on edge. She sounded… worried. Normally, when Shawn refused to wake up, his mother got annoyed… she never laughed.

Something was wrong.

"Come on, baby, we got to go," his mother said, gently shaking his shoulder. He didn't miss how her hands shook as they touched him.

He pulled the blanket off of his head, looking up at the woman. One look told him that something was obviously wrong. Her hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail and she hadn't put on her makeup yet. Her face was screwed up in worry and concern.

Normally, when Shawn was woken up by his mother, she was completely ready to start her day. She always had her done and her makeup applied. She didn't today.

"What's wrong?" he asked her immediately, worry clawing at him. His dad had left, hadn't he? That was the only explanation that he could come up with. He knew that his parents had been fighting lately. He must have left.

She looked surprised, "What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"Yes it is," he said, frustrated as he immediately threw the blankets off of him and climbed out of bed, "You're worried. What happened?"

She chewed on her bottom lip and shook her head, "Nothing's wrong, baby. Everything's fine."

Not believing her, he stormed out of his room and to the living room, expecting to see it empty. His father had left. That was the only explanation.

Only, his father was right there, reading a newspaper. The front page that Shawn could see talked about the recent murder of Ronald Thompson, a ten year old whose body had been found in an abandoned car in the woods. Shawn had heard of the boy. There was a girl in his class named Mary who knew the boy's cousin and had made sure the entire class knew about it.

His dad was home… he hadn't expected that.

"What's going on, dad?" he asked, crossing his arms.

The man didn't react, having obviously seen Shawn come in even if he didn't show it. Shawn scanned the man's face for something that would give away his emotion but it was blank. His father had always been better at hiding his emotions.

"Well, someone didn't finish their homework last night," Henry said, looking up from the newspaper and raising his eyebrows at Shawn.

Shawn wrinkled up his nose at that. How his father knew that, he had no idea. Regardless, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. If his parents didn't want him to know what was wrong, they weren't going to tell him. Most likely, there had been some really bad argument.

Grumbling, he stomped his way to the kitchen and poured himself some cereal. His mother followed, which Shawn felt was extremely odd as she really needed to be getting ready.

"Um, mom," he said slowly as he finished pouring the milk, "Don't you need to be getting ready for work?"

"Oh, I called in sick today," she told him with a shrug.

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion, looking at her, "You don't seem to be sick…"

She gave a cough that was obviously fake but he decided not to question it. Something was going on and he was going to have to figure it out through snooping around.

He loved doing that.

Grabbing his bag, he started to work on his homework as he ate.

* * *

Shawn bolted out of the bathroom as he finished brushing his teeth. His mother was really starting to make him nervous with how she stood by the door of his bedroom while he changed or how she seemed to be watching his every move. For once, he couldn't wait to get to school where he could tell Gus how weird his parents were acting and see if he agreed with his theory of aliens.

"See you later, dad!" he called to the man as he grabbed his lunchbox and bag and was about to leave to catch the bus.

Henry stood up, holding his arm out to stop him, "Whoa, hold on. I'm taking you to school today."

Okay, something was definitely wrong. He stopped, staring at his father, "You never take me to school. You'll be late to work."

"Just get in the car, kid. I'll get you some ice cream on the way."

His eyes lit up at that and a grin came on his face. Okay, if aliens had kidnapped his parents and replaced them with these people, maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Having ice cream before school even started was something that he never even dreamed of.

"Ay ay, sir!" he said, playfully saluting the man in front of him and bolting to his father's truck. As he climbed into the passenger side, he was surprised to see Henry practically chasing after him, his shoes clutched in his hands. Why hadn't he waited to put on his shoes?

Shawn huffed slightly in confusion but decided to discard it for future investigation. For now, he was simply looking forward to some ice cream.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Gus," Shawn said as he sat down for lunch, talking adamantly to his best friend, "Something's up with my parents."

His friend didn't seem too concerned, "Really, Shawn? Aliens? I'm sure that nothing's wrong. You're just looking into it. Did they tell you something was wrong?"

Shawn hesitated as he pulled out his sandwich, "Well, no…"

"Then it's probably nothing. My parents always tell me when something's wrong," Gus pointed out with his twelve year old knowledge, "Maybe your mom really is sick. Maybe your dad just wanted to spend some time with you."

Shawn scowled slightly as he bit into his sandwich, "Wh't? My d'd n'v'r wats to sped tm w't meh."

"Shawn, chew first!" Gus admonished, but he was laughing anyway, "And sure he does. All dad's want to spend time with their sons."

Shawn just rolled his eyes and swallowed the bite of food, "Gus, you've met my dad. His version of quality time is testing how many hats are in the room."

"You've got to admit. It's a neat trick," Gus pointed out with a smirk and Shawn glared at him. The traitor.

Why couldn't the boy be on his side? There was something wrong!

The school day went on like normal. Shawn had a history test which he was sure he aced. He always did. It wasn't like math where actual work was involved in tests. History was all about memorization and Shawn had the best memory that there was.

His eyes glanced over to Mary after the test was over. She was passing a note to Lucinda and he was quick to notice words like "Ronald" and "shot".

They were talking about the boy who had been killed. The last murder had gained more popularity than the other ones, Shawn knew. This one was closer to where they lived. Ronald had lived just barely out of the school zone and he knew that the boy would have been going to their high school when they reached it. It had caught everyone's attention, especially since someone was friends with his cousin.

It didn't bother Shawn, though. His father was a police officer. He'd overheard cases like this all the time.

Besides, it wasn't like it was connected to Shawn in any way.

* * *

When he and Gus left the school, about to start on their walk home (their parents had them ride the bus in the morning because they were afraid that no one would see if anything happened to them but by afternoon, there were much more witnesses), Shawn was surprised to see his mother parked in the parking lot and waving them over.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" he asked her in confusion as he and Gus reached the car.

"Well, since I didn't go to work today, I thought that I should drive you home. Oh, Gus, I'll drop you off at your house if you'd like," Madeline said.

Shawn pouted, "But I was going to go to Gus' house today!"

"Sorry, Shawnie, I need you home today."

He glanced to his best friend who shrugged but was obviously realizing that Shawn was right about the fact that something was up. Madeline kept glancing around as if someone was about to attack them and hadn't even bothered to do her makeup, something that never happened when the psychologist went in public. Her voice was higher than normal as well, giving away that something was scaring her.

He climbed into the back of the car with Gus and, after a moment of awkward silence, decided to fill the space with chatter of his day.

He would do his snooping when he got home.

* * *

After dropping Gus off, Shawn headed inside. His father was at work which gave Shawn the perfect opportunity to snoop around in his room… if his mother would stop following him around the house.

He sighed in annoyance and pulled out his homework as he sat down in the kitchen. Maybe he could bore the woman away. Surely, after several minutes of him working on some math problems, she would leave to find something better to do.

After ten minutes, she was still there, watching Shawn as if he might disappear into thin air.

He kept working on his homework a little longer. Surely, she couldn't just sit there staring at him for this long.

He kept working for thirty whole minutes until he was finished. For once, he wished he had more homework… his mother was still there.

"Mom," he said slowly, "don't you have something else to do?"

She frowned, "Maybe I just wanted to hear about your day."

"I already told you about my day in the car," he pointed out, starting to get more than a little worried. His parents never acted like this. He felt like his every move was being watched and it was nerve-wracking. What had caused his mother to be so nervous?

After a moment, he spoke up again, "I have to use the bathroom," and bolted towards it.

He could hear his mother's footsteps signaling that she was standing outside the bathroom and he sighed, glancing around for anything that could clue him into what was going on.

He opened all the drawers, being quiet so his mother didn't suspect anything. Nothing had been added or taken away since the last time he'd seen them. The same thing was the truth for the medicine cabinet. The only thing that was off was the box of latex gloves looked to have been moved slightly and he stored that away. Latex gloves didn't tell him anything.

He had nothing.

When dinner came around and his father didn't even attempt to quiz him on his memory, Shawn was 100% convinced that his parents were aliens. It was the only explanation.

So after hiding in his room for enough time to gather supplies that he could use for weapons, Shawn practically bolted downstairs wearing his bike helmet and clutching a toy sword.

He flung the kitchen door open, brandishing his sword in front of him, "Who are you?"

"Shawn?" his mother asked, confused.

"Who are you?" he repeated, pointing the plastic sword at them, "What planet do you come from?"

"Shawn, don't play games," Henry said with a sigh.

Shawn simply pointed the sword at him, eyebrows raised, "Where did you take my parents? I bet you thought I wouldn't notice but let me just say, you really should have gotten more research if you wanted to act like my parents, aliens!"

A smile flickered onto Madeline's face but Henry simply sighed, "Shawn, we're not aliens."

"Prove it," Shawn said stubbornly.

Madeline rolled her eyes, watching Shawn fondly, "If I were an alien, would I know that your favorite meal is meatloaf with a side of pineapple?"

She gestured to the meat that she was putting on a plate and the sliced pineapples already sitting there.

He lowered the sword, stomach growling at the sight of the food, "I guess not…"

She smiled as she set the plate on the table and ruffled his hair, "Eat up, kid."

* * *

 **AN: There you go! Chapter 2 is up! I hope I wrote kid!Shawn in character. I was really trying to think of how a kid would react to his parents suddenly being super overprotective.**

 **The next chapter is where things will pick up. Again, this is probably going to be about a four chapter story. It's written because of an idea that I have of another, longer Psych story. I needed to write up some backstory for it, first, if it was going to make sense.**

 **Thanks to the people who reviewed my first chapter! Hopefully you liked this one!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

 **Warning for a little violence, kidnapping, and threats.**

* * *

Shawn's life could only get weirder.

His mother had insisted on letting him stay up late and watch television in the living room. Of course, despite how odd that was coming from her, he'd jumped at the opportunity.

It was then that he realized that there wasn't anything interesting on at night. All the good cartoons didn't come on at this time of day. Of course, he refused to tell his mother that. He'd been begging to stay up late for months.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch and, oddly, his parents didn't wake up to take him to his bedroom. His mother had simply draped a blanket over him and had fallen asleep in the chair. Shawn had woken up to his father coming downstairs in the morning.

The man hadn't even berated him for staying up late. He'd simply sighed and given Shawn a hug.

A hug!

Hugs were rare from his father. He wasn't a touchy feely person. The last time Shawn had gotten something resembling a hug from the man was when he'd yanked him off his bike moments before he tried to jump a ridiculous ramp to prevent him from breaking his arm.

Then his father had driven him to school yet again and his mother had, once again, picked him up from school. She was still sick, apparently, even if her symptoms only appeared when Shawn questioned her about it. He knew the woman well enough to be able to tell she was faking it. Why? He had no idea.

And yet again, Shawn had not been allowed to go to Gus'. This had infuriated him, as he always went to Gus' after school. Two days in a row without seeing his best friend other than lunch and class was going to make him go insane.

When his mother had gone to the store and Shawn had asked if he could go with her, he'd been quickly turned down and sentenced to spending time with his father… who just so happened to be the biggest killjoy that Shawn had ever met.

"Can I go out and ride my bike?"

"No."

"Can I go to Gus'?"

"No."

"Can I do anything fun?"

"Shawn, watch some television or something," Henry said, looking exhausted. He was pouring over a report, something for work. Shawn had only managed to catch a few words off of it but it was enough to let him know that it was about that kid who was murdered.

Shawn huffed and got to his feet. He was dying of boredom and he didn't understand why he couldn't do anything fun. Television and video games got boring after a while, especially when his best friend wasn't there to enjoy them with him.

* * *

It was two days later, on a Friday, when Shawn made up his mind.

It didn't seem like his parents were ever going to let him do anything fun again. The only time he was able to talk to his friend now was at school and it wasn't like they could do anything fun while they were surrounded by teachers. Having a life limited to watching cartoons and playing games alone was not a life at all, in Shawn's opinion.

His parents were keeping an eye on his every move and it was starting to unnerve him.

So he went along with what had become a routine. He stayed up late watching television and "fell asleep" on the couch. He felt his mother drape the blanket over him and settle back down in the chair. The sounds of pages of a book being flipped through was the only sign that she was still awake.

A few minutes later, Shawn could hear footsteps entering the room.

"He knows something's up," Madeline said quietly, as to not disturb Shawn. Shawn immediately tuned into the conversation, hoping he could hear something that would give him an explanation as to what was going on with his parents.

"He's known something was up since the first day," Henry responded, sounding like he wanted nothing more than to sleep for several weeks, "We only have three more days, though. We can do this."

Shawn could have sworn he heard his mother's breathe hitch as she spoke, "Oh, Henry, I'm so scared. I don't know what I'm going to do if-"

"Nothing's going to happen, Maddie," Henry cut in.

Shawn was more than a little confused but he knew better than to reveal the fact that he was still awake. What was going on? Why was his mother, who Shawn had never seen vulnerable in his life, so terrified that something was going to happen. What had scared her so much?

"Just go to sleep, Maddie," Henry told her softly, a tone that Shawn only knew his father to use when he was worried about something, "We can talk about this later. Let's not wake Shawn up."

He knew that his mother nodded without seeing her. The sound of his father's footsteps signaled him exiting the room.

He waited for a moment, debating in his head. Maybe he shouldn't sneak out like he'd been planning... obviously whatever was going on had really spooked his parents. If they were so scared that something was going to happen…

Yeah, he needed to stay home. Besides, Gus' parents would have probably sent him home once he got there anyway.

The couch was really uncomfortable, though. He'd complained about it to his mother the first night but she'd simply said something about how it was his fault that he'd fallen asleep there.

She was lying and he knew it. The woman was making him fall asleep there on purpose. She wanted to be able to keep an eye on him. There was obviously something that made her afraid that something was going to happen to Shawn.

After a long few minutes when he could hear his mother's breathing even out, he quietly got off the couch and headed up to his room. He missed his bed. Besides, it wasn't like someone was going to climb up a second story building to get through his window. His mother would hear if someone came through the front door.

So he quietly made his way upstairs, carefully trying not to wake his mother or father, and went to his bedroom. Quickly, he climbed into his bed and started to try and figure out what was going on.

He didn't get very far until he drifted off.

* * *

He was woken up by a rag being forcefully placed over his mouth.

Panic drove through him as he held his breath, struggling as strong arms pinned him to the bed. His arms flailed and his legs kicked, trying to get out of the grip of whoever had him. He could hear his heart thudding in his chest as fear overtook him.

Don't breathe. Don't breathe. Don't breathe.

He knew enough about chloroform to know not to breathe it in. His father was a cop. His father had given him a long lecture on the dangers of the substance.

His lungs were starting to hurt though and the man's grip on his shoulder was definitely going to cause a bruise.

"Mmm!" he desperately tried to get away, limbs flailing as he tried to hit his attacker. He searched his mind for anything that his dad might have taught him in order to escape an attacker like this but nothing came up. He was completely defenseless. He just hoped his parents heard the struggle and came to help, "Mmm!"

There was a sudden voice in his ear, deep and rough, "Stop struggling and breathe in or I will kill your parents."

His blood felt like it froze with terror at those words. Instinctively, his limbs stilled as he stared up at the masked man in complete horror. His lungs were going to burst and his parents were in danger and this guy was going to-

He took a breath.

And then darkness claimed him.

* * *

When Henry woke up, he could tell that something was wrong. He wasn't sure how, but something in his gut was telling him that things were very wrong.

He threw the blankets off of him and quickly made his way downstairs to the living room. He threw open the door and felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the couch.

Shawn was gone.

"Maddie!" he yelled, feeling panic grip his lungs as his eyes darted over to the sleeping woman on the couch, "Maddie, where's Shawn?"

The woman woke up quickly, the sound of Henry's voice alerting her immediately to the fact that something was wrong, "He was here when I fell asleep…"

He cursed loudly but forced himself calm. Panicking wasn't going to help anything in the situation that he was in, "Um… okay. Hold on, it doesn't look like there was any kind of struggle and- and you would have woken up if there was," he said quickly, eyes glancing over the couch and how the blanket had been moved as if Shawn had just woken up and left, "Maybe he just went to his room?"

His wife was racing up the stairs before Henry could even finish. He'd never seen the woman look so terrified in his life.

She practically ripped open the door and a sudden, strangled scream escaped her lips before Henry had made it up the stairs.

He felt his heart drop and he quickened his pace until he reached the bedroom.

The window was open, the wind causing the curtains to billow. Shawn's bed had obviously been occupied. His pillows had been knocked off the bed and his blanket had followed. One end of the bottom sheet had been pulled off in what had obviously been a struggle and his son's alarm clock lay discarded on the floor from where someone had knocked if off.

The worst part about it, though, was that Shawn was gone.

* * *

 **AN: Here's chapter 3! Hope you guys liked it! Next chapter is going to be really dark, guys.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.  
**

 **Warning: There is violence and blood in this chapter. Proceed with caution.**

* * *

When Shawn woke up, his entire body ached.

He wasn't sure why and for a minute, he couldn't even remember what had happened. All he knew was that he was lying on a carpeted floor in an unknown room and his entire body felt like it was on fire.

Letting out a moan, he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Sorry about that."

Shawn jumped, eyes wide as he quickly glanced up. A masked man sat in front of him, legs crossed. He seemed to be simply observing.

"What?" Shawn backed away from the man, terror spreading through him as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was on a carpeted floor which had most likely once been a pretty white color but was now stained with so much blood that Shawn felt sick. The blood wasn't just on the floor, though. It also sprayed on the walls in such a way that could only have been made through a gunshot to the head. There were a few other areas on the floor that looked disturbingly as if someone had gotten sick on them.

Other than the gruesome appearance, however, there wasn't a single piece of furniture there. In fact, the room was completely bare. A single light above him lit the room up and the window near the edge was boarded up, preventing him from even seeing the outside world.

There was a pause and then the man continued, voice deep and calm but spoken in such a way that cause Shawn to shiver in fear, "Your window is on the second story. I had to drop you if I was going to get you to the car."

Shawn swallowed. That explained why his body ached. At least nothing felt broken, just bruised. That didn't help the fact that he was locked in the room with a crazed murderer, though.

"W-who are you?" he asked shakily.

"That's not important," the man simply said, "You can call me The Rescuer."

Shawn couldn't help it. He needed something to help lighten the situation, "The Rescuer? You seem to be doing the exact opposite of rescuing."

The stinging in his cheek surprised him and he let out a startled cry as the force of the man's hand nearly caused him to fall back to the floor.

How had he moved so fast?

"Keep that mouth closed while you're here," the man said, arms crossed and voice calm despite his sudden display of anger, "You've got three days with me until you're rescued. Now, you can either spend it peacefully in this room or I can make you suffer. Choose wisely."

Shawn's mouth snapped shut. This man was insane. How did he know that Shawn would be rescued in three days? And why did he think it would take that long for his parents to find him? Shawn trusted his father. He'd be out of their in a few hours, tops.

"Good boy," the man said as it was obvious that Shawn had stopped talking. He got to his feet and Shawn watched him carefully, "Don't be like Timmy. That boy was a pain to deal with for three days. He wouldn't stop yelling until I broke his leg. I almost didn't want him to be rescued," he sighed, "Oh, but I'm sure he understands now."

Shawn paled dramatically. He remembered overhearing his father talking to a few fellow officers about a Timothy Connors. He was a nine year old boy who had gone missing two months ago and had been found beaten with a broken leg and a bullet in his head.

He hadn't been rescued.

He'd been killed. He'd most likely been killed in the room that Shawn was sitting in if the blood was any indication.

This guy was killing children… and Shawn was next.

There was a pause and the man stared at Shawn through the mask. Suddenly, he spoke again, "When was the first time your father hit you?"

"What?"

Shawn stared at the man, eyes wide. What kind of question was that? His father would never hit him. Sure, he wasn't overly loving or doting, but that didn't mean he would ever lay a hand on his son other than to pull him away from whatever ridiculous thing he was trying to do that would undoubtedly land him in the hospital.

"When was the first time he hit you?" the man repeated.

Shawn simply shook his head, "My dad… My dad never hit me."

The man sighed, sounding disappointed, and walked to the door, "You don't have to lie to me, Shawn. I just want to help you."

He didn't have a chance to respond before he had left the door, swiftly shutting it and locking it from the outside.

* * *

The man left Shawn alone for a few hours. He spent the time scanning the room for anything that could help him but all he found was a bloody paperclip in the corner. He didn't touch it. It didn't belong to him. He could just imagine some kid searching through their pockets for anything useful to help them escape and only finding a stupid paperclip. He could see their disappointment and feel them lose hope.

He felt the same way.

To try and forget about the fact that the room was covered in blood, he desperately tried to search for some part of the carpet that hadn't been touched by the insides of a child.

It was pretty much impossible. Shawn had quickly understood that more than one person had died there. There was too much dried blood for one person, even two people. It was everywhere. The carpet, which had once been a pretty white, was stained red in most places. The walls looked as if someone had splattered them with red paint.

It had taken every ounce of Shawn's self-control not to throw up. He'd already found a few spots in the room that he was pretty sure were from where other people had thrown up.

He was not going to be Gus.

He'd tried to pull the boards off the window but to no avail. He was trapped.

He was going to die.

The door opened and Shawn stiffened as the man walked back in, holding a cheeseburger and a cup of coke. Shawn's heart leapt. He was getting hungry.

It fell, however, as the man sat down in front of Shawn, crossed his legs, and began to eat it himself. He was wearing a different mask this time, one that showed his lips and eyes instead of the one that he'd simply pulled over his head. It gave Shawn some information about the man. He was a Caucasian and he had blue eyes.

It was better than nothing

He licked his lips as the man dug into the burger and glanced away, pulling his legs to his chest. His stomach growled and he tried desperately not to think about just how hungry he was.

He wanted his dad.

Once the man finished eating the sandwich, he sat his trash to the side and turned to Shawn.

"When was the first time your father hit you?"

Shawn swallowed and shook his head, trying to figure out what was up with the man and his obsession with that question, "My dad never hit me. He wouldn't do that."

He sighed again, "Shawn, you don't have to lie to me. Your father can't hurt you now."

"He wouldn't hurt me!" Shawn said, glaring at the man in anger, "He loves me!"

"Has he ever told that to you?" the man asked calmly.

Shawn was about to answer that yes, he had, but he stopped. The man's words hurt him and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. It was true. His father hadn't told him he loved him before. They were guys, after all! That lovey dovey stuff was for girls.

"I thought so," the man simply said before leaving the room.

* * *

The next time the man came into the room, he started to ask Shawn different questions.

"Did he ever touch you?"

"No!"

"How did he hurt you, Shawn?"

"He didn't."

"Why did he hate you? Are you a disappointment to him?"

"I'm not! He doesn't!"

Shawn was getting tired of this. He had never been more terrified in his life and he knew for a fact that the guy was completely insane. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his mother and father more than he ever had in his life.

"Please, sir. Please let me go home," he begged him, tears running down his cheeks.

The man had simply sighed and stood up, leaving the room and leaving Shawn alone.

He'd sobbed for hours, terror running through his veins. He wanted nothing more than for his father to break into the house and save him. Where was he? Shouldn't he be there by now?

He cried himself to sleep.

* * *

He was woken up by the man shaking his arm, "Come on, time for a bathroom break."

Bathroom break? Well, that was odd. He was beginning to think that he would be stuck in the room until he was killed. Why was the guy letting him go to the bathroom?

The man gripped Shawn's arm tightly as he pulled him out of the room, so tight that Shawn was sure he'd have a bruise there. He kept his mouth shut though, not wanting to get hurt anymore. His body still ached from where the man had dropped him and his cheek stung from where he'd been back handed.

They reached the bathroom and he shoved him with a quick, "You have five minutes."

There was no windows in the bathroom.

He sighed, chewing on his bottom lip as he went to the bathroom and relieved himself before turning to the mirror. His cheek was bruised and his arms were covered in cuts and bruises from the fall as were his legs. His entire body looked battered and broken and he winced, turning his head to the sink as he turned on the water, washed his hands, and then greedily drank some of it.

Knowing that he had some time left, he searched through the drawers for something that he could find to help him escape.

Nothing.

"Come on, kid. Times up," the man said as he opened the door without warning. Shawn yelped and pulled away from the drawer, "What were you trying to do?"

He sounded mad. Shawn felt his heart begin to speed up.

The man lunged towards him and Shawn backed away fearfully. He gripped his shoulders and slammed Shawn against the counter, causing him to cry out.

"I'm helping you, Shawn!" the man yelled, shaking Shawn and squeezing his shoulders as he slammed him around the bathroom and causing him to his head hard against the wall.

"No you're not!" Shawn couldn't help but scream out as he fruitlessly tried to get away. The man responded by throwing Shawn to the floor, "You're just hurting me!"

A kick to the stomach shut him up and he groaned loudly.

"I'm saving you!" the man roared, kicking him hard again, "I got you away from your parents," kick, "They hurt you!" kick, "Didn't they?"

"No!" Shawn moaned, curling in on himself. He felt like he was about to puke.

Another kick hit his stomach and he cried out, "Did your father do this to you, Shawn? Did he hurt you?"

Kick. Kick. Kick.

"Please stop!" Shawn cried.

After what felt like ages, the kicks finally subsided. Shawn breathed heavily, tears covering his cheeks as sobs escaped his lips.

The man grabbed Shawn's arms and yanked him to his feet, dragging him out of the bathroom. His chest was on fire and his stomach hurt and pain seemed to engulf him. He couldn't even find the energy to fight the man.

He was thrown into the room and the door slammed shut. He pulled his legs to his chest and sobbed as he lay there, dried blood reminding him of his future.

"Daddy," he found himself crying and if anyone asked, he would deny it until his death bed, "Daddy, please find me."

* * *

 **AN: Well, this got a little darker than I intended... the last chapter will be the last one, just so you guys know! At some point down the road (probably over Christmas Break), I'll post the next story which... is really the main story. This is the prequel to it. It will take place when Shawn is an adult, probably around Season 4 or 5. Hope you guys liked this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

* * *

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep but when he woke up, it hurt to move.

His entire body ached even more than it had originally. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep or how long he'd even been there. He was hungry and thirsty and in pain and terrified.

Never before had he wanted his parents more than he did now.

"Okay, Shawn," he told himself quietly as he painfully pushed himself into a sitting position, "You can figure this out. Just think. What would dad do?"

Except, he didn't know what his dad would do. His dad wouldn't ever be in this situation.

"Focus," he whispered, pulling himself to his feet, "You can do this. You are not going to die like this. You are Shawn Spencer. Spencer's figure things out."

How was he supposed to figure this out? There was nothing to figure out. The only thing in the room was a paperclip covered in blood.

Why did he feel like the paperclip was important?

"Use what you have," a voice that sounded a lot like his father's said in the back of his head, "Use what you have."

"A paperclip," he said under his breath, slowly moving towards where he remembered it being. He swallowed as he picked it up, trying very hard to simply imagine that it was paint and not blood on it, "How can I use this?"

His father's voice was back, "Pick the lock."

He looked up quickly, eyes wide in realization. His Uncle Jack had once showed him how to do that. His father had been furious but now…

He moved quickly despite the pain in his body, and fell to his knees in front of the door. Quickly unbending the paperclip, he began working on the lock.

"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, heart feeling as if it was about to burst from his chest. There was a sudden click and he sucked in a breath.

It was unlocked.

"Okay, Shawn. Careful, quiet, you can do this."

He swallowed as he slowly opened the door and recreated the small bit of the house that he remembered. It was a two story house. He remembered seeing stairs near the bathroom that led to a kitchen. If he could get down there, he could escape.

He held his breath as he quietly made his way down the hall and to where the man had lead him to the bathroom. He passed by a door and could hear snores coming inside of it, something that relieved and terrified him. The man was asleep, but he was right there.

Quickly, he made his way past the door and down the steps.

The kitchen was normal. The entire house was normal. It didn't make sense to Shawn. With the shape of the room and the way the man acted, he would have thought that he lived in some kind of cave or a creepy house in the woods.

He saw a gun on the table and swallowed thickly, terror running through him. The man was going to use that on Shawn. It had a silencer on it so Shawn knew that the man had neighbors before even looking outside.

Thinking quickly, he opened the back door and shut it with a quiet click. He needed to get away from there fast if he stood any chance.

It was dark and raining outside. Rain immediately started to soak his clothes but he didn't even pay it any mind.

His feet hit the ground and he bolted from the house, not even thinking about where he was headed. All that he knew was that he needed to be anywhere but there.

* * *

He didn't stop running for twenty minutes when he found his surroundings suddenly get familiar. He knew where he was. He passed by this place all the time.

Hope was bubbling up inside of him. He was cold and wet and tired and hurting but he was so close to safety.

He neared his safe haven quickly. The Police Station had never seemed so heroic in his life.

There were a lot of cars there, Shawn realized. A lot of them were working late.

Thunder rumbled and Shawn quickly made his way up the steps, shaking and shivering. He pushed the door open and stumbled inside the large building.

He felt as if he had walked into a warzone. Officers were rushing around and he could hear someone shouting orders at them. It wasn't long before a woman at the desk noticed him. Shawn recognized her. Her name was Alice.

She stared in surprise for a moment before leaping to her feet, quickly running to Shawn who backed up in terror.

She stopped, a flash of sadness appearing on her face, "Hey, Shawn," she said slowly, holding up her hands, "I'm not going to hurt you, alright. Are you okay?"

He swallowed, somehow not being able to find the words to answer her questions, "Th-There was so much b-blood."

She looked horrified at that response but quickly continued, "Are you okay?"

"I-I picked the lock. He was asleep. I got out."

"Good job," she said, slowly walking to him as to not startle him.

He felt tears spring up in his eyes, "I want my dad."

She nodded and turned to a rookie officer who was staring at the pair in surprise, "Get Henry."

The rookie ran off and she turned back to Shawn, "Are you hurt, son?"

He licked his lips, furiously wiping at the tears that fell down his cheeks. He knew that she could tell that he was hurt. Bruises covered his face and arms, after all.

He really hated crying in front of people.

"He-He got mad at me," Shawn mumbled.

Alice had gotten close to him and carefully put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Shawn bit back a sob and suddenly flung himself at her, wrapping his shaking arms around the woman as tears fell freely down his cheeks.

He was safe. He was safe.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered, rubbing his back comfortingly, "You're safe now, alright? He can't hurt you anymore."

After a moment, he pulled away, furiously wiping at the tears again, "He had a g-gun. There was a silencer o-on it. He lived in a neighborhood and he l-locked me in a room and there was b-blood e-everywhere and-"

"Shawn!"

He looked up at the sound of his father's voice.

"Dad!"

Before he knew it, he was in his father's arms and the tears were back with a vengeance.

His father's strong arms wrapped around him, protecting him. He could hear his breathing and felt himself collapse.

After a long moment, the man pulled Shawn back to look at him, studying the bruise on his cheek and the ones on his arms, "He hurt you."

"I made him mad," Shawn said simply, feeling exhausted suddenly, "He wouldn't stop kicking me."

Henry's jaw clenched, "Can you tell me where you were? Shawn, we need to catch him."

He swallowed and nodded slightly, understanding. He forced himself to relive the last hour where he was running for a quick moment and tried to remember if he had seen any kind of road sign.

"Um… Mockingbird Drive," he responded after a moment, surprised by how tired his voice suddenly sounded, "It was an um… two story house. That's all I know…"

"Good job, Shawn," Henry said calmly, gesturing to a few nearby cops to get on it. He paused, frowning at Shawn, "You're shivering."

Shawn did his best to smile at his dad, "I was r-running in the rain for about twenty m-minutes," he pointed out.

The man seemed to suddenly realize that Shawn was soaking wet, "Someone get me some towels or something!"

Another cop ran off to fetch something and Shawn simply found himself chewing on his lip and staring at the floor. Not even a minute passed before a towel was draped over his shoulders.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

His father's voice was soft and careful and concern laced through it. Shawn was suddenly aware that he was sitting down in a chair. When did that happen?

"I… Um… I…"

"It's okay, take your time, son."

Shawn swallowed thickly, fingers playing with a string on his wet shirt, "I wanted to sleep in my bed. I- He chloroformed me and… he said he dropped me from my window. It made sense… It hurt…"

He trailed off, closing his eyes briefly before continuing, "Um, he said he was saving me and I would be rescued and he kept asking me when my dad first hit me and he wouldn't stop and there was so much blood!"

He took a deep breath, trying very hard to explain without breaking down but every time he blinked, he saw flashes of the bloody room.

His eyes trailed to his father and another police officer who he didn't know. His father was listening intently and the other cop was furiously scribbling down on a piece of paper.

"People d-died in that room, didn't they?" he asked shakily, "There was b-blood everywhere. It was all dried up in the carpet and on the w-walls."

They didn't respond to that. Shawn continued.

"He let me go to the bathroom once. I tried to find something to help me get out but he got mad and he pushed me and-and-and he just started k-kicking me and he wouldn't s-stop."

His voice seemed to escape him suddenly. He stared at the table in front of him. Someone touched his shoulders and he jumped, head snapping up. His father yanked away his hand like it had been burned and he immediately felt guilty.

Shawn swallowed again, "He… uh, I found a paperclip. I picked the lock and I… I ran."

The cop nodded, finished writing on the paper, and disappeared. Henry watched Shawn for a minute and Shawn looked back. He'd never seen such a relieved and concerned look on the man's safe before.

"I'm okay, dad," he said slowly.

Henry smiled softly and nodded, "I know you are. You're going to be okay now. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again, alright?"

Shawn nodded and he believed the man wholeheartedly. He was safe.

* * *

 **AN: Well, this is the end! I hope you guys liked this little story. I know that it ended sudden but the way Shawn got out was necessary for the next story.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews and follows! Be on the lookout for the next story!**


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